


Binary Stars

by MissMJS



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Can be read dark but I don't, Dependence - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Possessive victor, Romance, SLIGHT yandere Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMJS/pseuds/MissMJS
Summary: Most would say he needs to be fixed, that he's not mentally healthy. Not to him. To him, he's perfect. To him, there's nothing to fix.





	Binary Stars

 “Yuuri!” Victor’s panicked voice resonates from their bedroom.

“In the kitchen!” said Japanese man calls back to his lover as he flips a pancake. Quick footsteps sound through the house, and eventually the man himself bursts through the kitchen doorway, his silver hair tussled from sleep and his blue-green eyes locked on Yuuri. Makkachin bounds in after his master, his tongue hanging out as he pants happily. The younger man manages to set down the spatula before his arms are full of the Russian skater, who clings desperately to him.

“You weren’t in bed,” Victor whines pitifully into Yuuri’s neck.

“Sorry, I wanted to make you breakfast,” the ebony-haired man murmurs, rubbing Victor’s back.

The older man straightens and locks his blue eyes with Yuuri’s russet ones. “Wake me up next time,” he demands. Yuuri gently cups the Russian’s face with both hands.

“Okay, I will.”

* * *

 

Since the beginning, Yuuri had plenty forewarning. There were four big signs, however, that if he saw at the time perhaps would have changed things.

When Yuuri first laid eyes on him, it wasn’t so much of a sign but more of irony, when he looks back at that moment. He remembers thinking how ethereal that being named Victor Nikiforov looked: that silver hair, that flawless face, and that captivating aura that one cannot ignore, even on a screen. It was magic, what that Russian did on the ice. It enchanted Yuuri, and with the little sense he had left while watching Victor’s skating, he remembers thinking that man could bring the strongest to their knees, that Victor could totally own someone, body and soul, and they wouldn’t even argue against it.

He never realized how perceptive his young mind was until he was the age of 24.

* * *

 

“Come on, Yuuri! You’ve got to come with us!” Mila begs the flustered man while Georgi and Yuri wait at the rink’s doors.

“I, uh, don’t know, Mila,” Yuuri rubs the back of his head, uneasy with being the center of attention. A head of silver hair catches his attention as it crosses the ice, towards where he and Mila are.

“I promise you’ll have fun! Their food is just to die for!” the female skater gushes, wanting Yuuri to come and experience her favorite restaurant.

 _‘Doubt it,’_ the ebony-haired male thinks as he meets Victor’s blue eyes. The Russian smiles and cocks an eyebrow at him as he warms up, curious of what Yuuri’s answer to Mila will be. He just finished coaching Yuuri, and now it’s his turn to train, preventing him from going to lunch with them.

“Sorry,” he says, eyes locked with those bewitching eyes. Yuuri can see past that smile, see through those eyes. He always could. “I’m not very hungry right now, and I’m pretty tired.” He doesn’t hear Mila’s disappointed response, he just sees Victor’s eyes flash with satisfaction before he skates away.

* * *

 

Yuuri’s first sign was when he watched a YouTube video from Victor’s early skating career. In this competition, Victor won silver, only having missed gold by a mere .13 points. As usual, there was the dashing smile, the twinkling blue eyes, and the grace of royalty as the Russian stood on the podium, holding his silver medal. The camera zoomed in on the gold winner, but Yuuri kept his focus on his idol, whose face managed to still fit in the screen. Because he was already fixated on the older boy, Yuuri saw Victor briefly glance at the gold medal that was dangling beside him. No, _‘glance’_ is the wrong word; more like _‘glare.’_ Yuuri was able to see Victor’s eyes darken and narrow, almost as if he were asking the object how dare it not be in his hands. Then, as quick as it had formed, the look was gone and Victor was back to normal.

Yuuri, unfamiliar with the emotion at the time, wrote it off as Victor’s determination for winning gold showing, and he never gave the look another thought until several years later.

* * *

 

Yuuri lets out a sigh after entering their apartment, tired and just _a little_ tipsy; please, he does not need a repeat of Sochi, no matter how much Phichit begged him to drink more.

“Yuuri.”

The Japanese man freezes, his breath hitching as a lamp flicks on and bathes the room and the Russian man sitting on the couch with light. He wants to laugh at how clichéd the moment is if not for the fact that it’s Victor.

“Where were you tonight?” the silver-haired man asks, his face blank, but not his eyes. Oh, never his eyes.

“W-With Phichit. I told you I-I’d be with him at a bar tonight.” Yuuri wracks his brain on what he could’ve done to set the man off.

Victor holds up his phone and wiggles it. “Oh? Just the bar?”

Shit. Yuuri forgot about that.

“W-Well, we also went to his hotel room for an hour...”

Victor stands and walks slowly towards him, his strides smooth, like a predator. “And do what, I wonder?”

“We were just catching up, Victor, I swear!” Yuuri pleads as he slowly backs up. “The bar was so crowded and noisy, we could barely hear each other!” His back hits the wall.

“It never dawned on you to let me know? Imagine my surprise when I used my tracking app to check up on you, only to find out you weren’t where you said you’d be.” Victor plants his hands on either side of Yuuri’s head against the wall, his blue-green eyes boring into the younger man’s russet ones.

“I thought you trust me,” Yuuri whispers, breathing rapidly. Yuuri adores Victor, don’t get him wrong, but when man gets like this, even Yuuri has to admit to fear.

“Ohhh, Yuuri.” Victor’s right hand lightly traces Yuuri’s jaw. “It starts out with small lies,” The gentle touch then turns into an iron grip on his chin. “but the next thing I know, you’re tearing my heart out with another.”

“N-Never,” the ebony-haired man breathes, his heart beating erratically. “There’s only you, no one else. _No one!_ ”

“That’s right,” A centimeter now separates their faces. “there will never be anyone else because you are _mine_.” Victor’s lips crash onto Yuuri’s, the kiss hard and demanding. Yuuri wraps his arms around the Russian’s neck, not even flinching when Victor bites his lip. He knows it’s going to be a rough night.

* * *

 

Yuuri’s second sign wasn’t until after Yuuri actually met the figure skating legend. The Japanese skater had just performed his Eros routine with an audience for the first time: the competition against Yurio for Victor. For the first time in years, Yuuri had felt proud. When the ebony-haired man looked over at his idol, he was greeted with the look he had long ago dubbed as Victor’s determination. He remembers how elated he felt, being the one to draw out that look from Victor, being the one who won Victor’s attention.

If Yuuri caught Victor staring at him more after that, being more affectionate, well, it was the price he had to pay for having the Russian’s attention.

* * *

 

 _“Yuuri Katsuki?”_ Yuuri tears his gaze from the shelf of seasonings before him and sees a young blond woman to his left. “Oh my god, you _are_ Yuuri Katsuki!” she squeals in Russian, her brown eyes twinkling as she claps her hands excitedly. Most of the time, Yuuri is thankful that Victor made him learn Russian. For situations like this, though? He’d _much_ rather hide behind a language barrier!

“Hello,” he greets politely, also in Russian, with a small bow.

“Oh, you even sound amazing!” she gushes, fanning herself. He flushes. “Oh, Yuuri, I am such a huge fan! Please, could I take a selfie with you?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” he nods. Every now and then he gets really enthusiastic fans like this, and every time he gets so flustered! He wishes he could be as suave as Victor is with his own fans.

“Say cheese!” Right before she clicks the button, she plants a kiss on his unsuspecting cheek. He freezes, his blood running cold as she purrs in his ear, “if you’d like, I could come with you and show you just how big of a _fan_ of yours I am.”

The skater opens his mouth to warn her off, but he hears footsteps approaching from behind them. Too late. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he murmurs instead.

“Yuuri!” The female jumps away from Yuuri, confirming his question of whether she knows about his and Victor’s relationship. “You found another fan, I see?” Victor grins as he drapes an arm over Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Yes, I am such a big fan of Yuuri’s!” the blond nods, winking at Yuuri. The Japanese skater gives a meek smile in return as he feels Victor’s grip on his shoulder tighten.

“ _My_ boyfriend is charming like that,” he hears Victor coo, and Yuuri doesn’t even have to look to know the other male is glaring pointedly at the female as he says this.

“Well, I suppose I should let you guys return to your shopping,” the blond pouts, staring directly at Yuuri. She really doesn’t know when to quit.

Nor does she notice Victor’s heavy gaze as she leaves. Yuuri turns back to the seasonings. He knows there’s nothing he can say that will change Victor’s mind.

* * *

 

Yuuri’s third sign was at the Cup of China, down in the parking garage. When Victor yelled at him not to listen and clamped his hands over Yuuri’s ears, the younger man came face to face with that dark look again. It was kind of strange to have Victor’s determination show itself at that moment, but then again, Victor had been trying to get Yuuri to be more confident in himself; perhaps Victor was reaching his wit’s end.

The Japanese skater didn’t take into account Victor’s tighter-than-necessary hold or how his blue eyes followed every little move and every shift of expression Yuuri made.

* * *

 

Yuuri looks up from his book when he hears their front door open and close. Victor walk in and takes off his coat, revealing his light blue button-up shirt and jeans stained red from blood.

“Hello, my dear Yuuri!” Victor beams at him. Then he spots the poodle sitting at his feet, wagging his tail excitedly. “Hello to you too, baby Makka!” he coos, rubbing his face against the poodle’s head.

“You didn’t make a mess in the car again, did you?” the ebony-haired man asks warily, setting down his book. They had to buy new interior for the car that last time, claiming it was because of their wounded dog.

“Oh, no. I won’t do _that_ again,” Victor grimaces and straightens up, also remembering all those hours wasted on those impossible stains. “No, her body’s at her house. The whore was _married_ , did you know that?” Yuuri shakes his head. Not very much, with the exception of the man before him, surprises him anymore. “The husband’s not much better though, so I chose to frame him,” the silver-haired man shrugs as he unbuttons his soiled shirt.

“And you were careful?” Yuuri asks tentatively. The answer is the same every time, but Yuuri can’t help but to fear. Fear that one day Victor won’t be careful enough.

Victor’s shirt drops to the floor – they’ll burn it and his pants later – and he walks over to where Yuuri is.

“Of course I was, love.” He pulls Yuuri up and wraps his right arm around the younger man’s waist while his left hand caresses his cheek. “ _No one_ can take you away from me,” the Russian whispers softy, adoringly, before he lightly kisses the shorter man.

Yuuri knows this. If only the lady from the grocery store and the others could have figured that out, then they’d still be alive.

* * *

 

Yuuri’s fourth – also the last that he was blind to – sign was when they were in a hotel room in Barcelona and Yuuri told Victor he wanted to end things after the Grand Prix Final. Yuuri was still too stunned by the crying beauty before him to register his blue eyes darkening once again. He didn’t see it until Victor grabbed his arm, asking Yuuri how he could expect Victor to go back to skating when he was leaving it.

Japanese skater was about to argue against the older man, to break down his determination, when, “Yuuri, you are _my_ student. We still have so much to show the world! _You_ still have so much to show _me_.”

They were simple words, inspiring even. However, it was the way Victor said it, the way the Russian looked at him, and the way his idol loomed over the him and kept an iron grip on Yuuri’s arm that later made Yuuri – when he was trying to fall asleep later that night – finally realize that after all of those years, he’d mislabeled Victor’s intense look as determination.

It was possessiveness.

* * *

 

 

 

“Excuse me, Yuuri Katsuki?” He turns from the frozen veggies to see a petite brunette gazing at him with wide, green eyes. He really should find a different grocery store to shop at, he thinks to himself; he keeps getting recognized here!

“Yes?” the Japanese skater asks, hoping this one will be wiser than the last.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. I am Alyona Vasiliev, Victor’s ex,” she sticks out her hand to shake, watching his face carefully. Yuuri knows who she is; other than him, she’s the one who’s dated Victor the longest.

“Yes, Victor’s told me about you,” Yuuri smiles politely and shakes her extended hand.

“And how is he? V-Victor?” Alyona’s green eyes dart around nervously, trying to hide her trembling hands, aware she shouldn’t be talking to him. Yuuri gazes at her sympathetically. She knows, too.

“The same.” Her gaze snaps back to him.

“How are _you_ doing?”

“I am happier than I’ve ever been,” Yuuri decides to answer truthfully. Her eyes widen in disbelief.

“How can you say that? Surely you know who he is? _What_ he is?” Unfortunately, Yuuri’s surprised her enough to distract her from her surroundings.

“Alyona.” The brunette freezes, her whole body now trembling as her frightened green eyes meet with Victor’s cold, hard ones as he approaches them. As expected, the silver-haired male wraps his arm around Yuuri’s waist, all the while keeping his merciless gaze on the terrified female. She knows, so there’s no need to hide.

Yuuri welcomes the warmth Victor brings, and he leans his head on the Russian’s shoulders. “Yes, I know who he is, and what he is,” Yuuri answers Alyona, knowing Victor overheard their conversation; he’s never far from Yuuri. The ebony-haired male turns his head to look at his beloved, and what he sees takes his breath away.

Victor’s blue-green eyes, his _expressive_ eyes, gaze into his own, shimmering with hope and fear. _Fear_. Yuuri Katsuki has the power to make his idol, his love, feel fear! He smiles.

“He is Victor Nikiforov, and he is _mine_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! I would love comments and Kudos!  
> There's a chance I could be persuaded to make another chapter, with Yuuri as the crazier one... ;)


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